


The Trouble with Bootie Comms

by frangipani



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, except for one little thing, luke skywalker is just an ordinary guy really, mara jade is workin' for the weekend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:41:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28347048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frangipani/pseuds/frangipani
Summary: "I have an issue with my apartment right now," Luke said. Mara was pretty sure why.
Relationships: Mara Jade/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 40
Kudos: 89





	The Trouble with Bootie Comms

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [strangeallure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangeallure/pseuds/strangeallure).

“If you _don’t_ want to see me, then” Mara said into the comm, her feet on the cockpit panel and her arms crossed behind her head. “You don’t have to be obtuse about it. You’re busy, I--.”

“No-no-no-no,” Skywalker stumbled all over himself, which was, of course, why she’d phrased it the way she had. “Just, I have this meeting in the afternoon and then I have to get home before evening -- 1800 at the latest.”

“So I’ll meet you at your place like last time,” she offered. That wasn’t a bad idea. It was where things would end up anyway. Ideally.

“I don’t think so,” she heard the wince in his voice, “I have an...issue with my apartment right now.”

She grinned, pretty sure she knew why. The palace district’s infestation had been all over the HoloNet. Not that Mara ever indulged in schadenfreude, but duracreet mites in the _palace district_ was something truly special. Some might even call it poetic justice. A few talking heads had speculated about a mutation that attracted the insects to the expensive air purifiers. 

“Oh no! You, too?” She made her voice extra sympathetic. “And that fancy place of yours didn’t even ronto up for a hotel?” 

“Not that kind of issue,” he said way too quickly and she laughed. 

“Where’s your meeting? Near CoCo?” She lowered her voice. “I’ve never stayed at a hotel in Coco Town actually--”

“I don’t have ‘crete mites!” He sounded indignant now, and she fought off another chuckle. “The ante wing instituted strict protocols as soon as the left wing of the palace reported their first case.”

It was too hard to resist. “I’d still meet up with you, Skywalker. I’d just need know if I have to schedule an organic fumiga--”

“Mara,” he got that put upon tone. “That is not the issue.”

“Okay, okay.”

“Where are _you_ staying?” he asked before she could ask what it was.

“For a twelve hour stopover? Nowhere.”

“You’re in Coruscant for twelve hours?” his voice pitched high at the last words. 

“No choice. The slot Phus Sec cleared me for is half a week after I get into the system, so it’s either killing time dirtside on Coruscant or just orbiting.” It sounded flimsy to her ears, but whatever.

“Ah, if that’s the case.” All right, that flattered note in his voice was a little aggravating.

“I don’t want to keep you from anything,” she added. “If you have, oh, I don’t know, a hot date or something. Or ‘crete mites.”

“Neither.” This time he laughed. “Only,” his voice went back to that edgy tone, “I have several things I need to get in order. Just came back from off planet a few days ago, so things are chaotic.”

“Oh.” That did make sense, but wait -- “You ok?”

“Me? Oh, I'm fine. It was some ah...run-of-the-mill stuff. I could make it to the _Red Rancor_ after those interviews, but I have to get going in an hour and a half.”

Academy business. Mara made a face. “Why not skip the _Red Rancor_ then and,” she made a whistling sound, “get to know some fine local inns.”

There it was again, that put upon tone. “Mara.”

Right, it offended his gentlemanly sensibilities to insinuate what this was all about. She didn’t know why she bothered with the charade. Outer Rim mores were beyond tiresome. “Fine. We’ll go to _Red Rancor_ and catch up.” 

One time they met up after one of his treks off planet, things did end with some spectacular sex in a cantina ‘fresher. What was not spectacular were the three million vaguely contrite messages he sent her after. Mara rolled her eyes at the memory. He’d made her suffer through the universe’s most awkward dinner the next time he saw her. Worse, there'd been absolutely no payoff. 

And here she was again, trying to talk her way back into some old fashioned stress relief, while -- most incredibly -- trying to keep Luke Skywalker’s farmboy sensibilities mostly intact.

“Good,” there was some clatter in the background, and she could make out the toodle of his artoo unit, “Wait a second,” he excused himself and he heard him grumble -- to his astromech, she guessed, “What was that? No, wait, that’s not-- Mara, I have to go,” Skywalker sounded harried all of a sudden. “I’ll see you at _Red Rancor_.” He closed the line.

Mara tilted her head. That was more brusque than she was used to from him. Wonder what that was all about. 

\--

 _The Red Rancor_ was a mid-level establishment, neither the best nor the worst, utter forgettable, which was the charm, Mara supposed. The staff knew Skywalker which made it a good place not to be bothered, and a bad place to have amazing ‘fresher sex. Not that she was fixating.

Mara arrived first, which was not all that surprising, given this interview he had. Some academy business probably. Mara never wanted to dig too deeply into that. 

“Sorry, I’m late,” he said, sliding into the booth across from her, sounding as harried as he had on the comm. “Last candidate was very...exuberant.”

Academy business, definitely. Mara tried a smile that felt just a bit too tight, but disengaging would hardly get her where she wanted to be. “A winner?”

He shook his head. “No, all of them were…,” he focused on Mara and finished with, “not right.” He lifted a hand for the waitress, a Tholossian who zoomed right to them. 

“Your usual?” she asked.

Skywalker rubbed his forehead. “No. Make it a firewater, neat, please. Actually, on second thought, make it a double.”

Mara tried very hard for her eyebrows not to go up. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him order an actual cantina drink at a cantina. Or any alcohol, actually. 

“That kind of interview, huh?” she said.

“A lot of them,” he replied wearily, “and I don’t have the experience to judge --” Another look at her and he stopped. The waitress served his drink and he downed about half of it before continuing, “I don’t want to bore you with this. What are you up to at Phus? I thought you were doing Mid-Rim contracting.”

“I am. There’s a couple of conglomerates there that have headquarters at Phus.” She didn’t want to talk about work, but again, catch up was the name of this particular song and dance, so she leaned back and groused a little about planetary security at Phus, the mistimed slot, and the inevitable ten back-to-back meetings of sentients telling her the exact same thing in forty-five different ways. 

Skywalker looked on with interest, asking something or other: blah blah he’d never been to Phus, blah blah did she anticipate trouble with the contracts, blah blah. Mara broke off to order another ale, thinking the night was going downhill fast despite the promising beginning. He still had half of his own drink left.

She scanned up, registering lines of tension on his face. “Enough about me. What was your trip about? More Jedi relics?”

He pursed his lips. “Sort of.”

“Must have been some trip. You look exhausted.”

He rubbed a hand on his face. “Coming back was -- is kind of an...adjustment.”

That did happen sometimes. “I thought you could just use some Jedi techniques for that. Like that refreshing stuff.”

He shook his head. “No, it’s not a time dilation thing.”

Her heart sank. Oh, no. A depressing trip, maybe? Had she planned out this stopover to catch Skywalker in one of his rare broody moods? Kriff. 

He sighed. “I should go. I have to be back by 1800.”

When in doubt... “You sure you don’t have ‘crete mites?”

“Of course not.” He scrunched his face.

Mara all out laughed. “Maybe I don’t believe you." She inched closer. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. It's not--"

"I am not embarrassed because I don't have--"

Under the table, she dropped a hand on his thigh, feeling him jolt. "Then inviting me for a drink shouldn't be a problem."

For a second she thought that would be it, a shot and a miss, better luck next time, but his expression changed into hopeful."I'd really like to keep talking but," his expression changed to suspiscious, "wait-- what's wrong with your ship?"

Mara felt her smile tighten. "Technically, I don't have a ship at the moment."

Skywalker rolled his eyes at her. "Fine, the ship Karrde has you piloting." Then, damn him, he saw something because he cocked his head at her and said, "What happened?"

"Nothing, just some maintenance issue, no big--"

He had that dogged, narrow-eyed look. "What kind?" 

Oh, kark it all. Mara lifted a hand and forced a laugh. "Just a little skirmish."

She hated it when he got that all-too-knowing look. "A skirmish that made you stop over at Coruscant for involved tech work?"

Mara coughed delicately. "Well, I'm getting another ship in a few hours--"

"Another one?"

"I still have a schedule--"

"You're getting another ship in twelve hours?"

"Ten. Give or take," she replied grudgingly.

His shoulders drooped. "So that's why you're here."

"Don't be stupid. They do better work for cheaper at the orbital station, and there's always shipyards at Brentaal." She took an extra long swig of her ale because Skywalker suddenly beamed and, she should have seen that he was just fishing for a blasted pick-me-up. She'd fallen for it like a rank novice.

"Anyway," she continued sharply. "They're going to comm me when they have the new ship ready. If your apartment is off limits given your little infestation I think we should look at a room, we have a good twenty minutes before 1800 and I saw an inn over--"

"A room at an inn?" Skywalker pulled a face. "Twenty minutes? _No_."

Heaven help her. She'd have more luck with a Kuati Princess at this rate. Mara reigned in the impulse to prod about that time in the _Sky Hornet's_ 'fresher. Satisfying as that would be, it would probably shoot her chances to zero. 

She leaned back against the booth. "All right, well, if you have to go, you have to go."

Skywalker still wore a reluctant, torn look on his face, which was promising. He leaned forward as if it pained him to admit. "Mara, I...I have someone staying with me."

Mara frowned. "And you can't tell them to get lost for an hour?"

Skywalker grimaced. "That wouldn't be right with..." He sighed again.

Could it be? Mara drummed her fingers on the neck of her ale bottle. Had Solo pissed off his wife that much? But yes, having Solo around to give her grief was only marginally better than the thought of having to expose herself to ‘crete mites to get laid, ugh.

"You know what," Skywalker blurted out, more than a little despondent, certainly wary. "I do have to go, but...we can keep talking at home -- just one drink should be fine. I'm sure you'll get a comm soon anyway -- especially if you have to make a security slot at Phus." Skywalker pushed the rest of his drink away and asked for the check.

Solo must be in really bad shape. Mara took another ship of her drink. Maybe this wasn’t the time.

"Coming?" Skywalker asked, standing up.

Mara yanked on her bag and followed him out.

\-- 

Skywalker’s most recent trip had apparently been to the Koros Sector. Mara wasn’t familiar, only knew that it was somewhere in the Deep Core. They spoke very little about it on the speeder ride over to his place, Skywalker preferring to grill her over that brouhaha at the Corporate Sector. 

"So now you can't go back to the system," Skywalker summed up, shutting down the repulsors.

That was such an extreme way of putting it. "I wouldn't say I can't go--"

"They said they would shoot you on sight."

"A misunderstanding." Mara shrugged and got out. "It's not my fault we found a buyer at a higher price. They didn't have to chase me out. Karrde will send someone else next time. It'll be fine."

Skywalker made a disapproving noise at her. "You found a buyer at a higher price than the Ayala because you sold them _the Ayala's_ cruiser specs so they could make Karrde that same cruiser and call it something else. And you're going to sell it aren't you? To someone else. Isn't that--"

Mara lifted her index finger "Legal. Completely. They never ratified the NR's charter. The Corporate Sector doesn't play by our rules. We don't play by theirs."

"You didn't go as an NR rep though," Skywalker said as they took the turbolift up from the private landing pad.

Mara scoffed. "Of course not, I went as Karrde's. But I don't have to disclose that to anyone." She grinned. 

"You are asking for an audit from the Ethics Bureau," he sing-songed at her.

Her grin got even wider. "Yeah, maybe, but Ethics doesn't give a shavit about the Corporate Sector." She switched the subject. "Is Koros Imperial Remnant? I don't know what's there."

Some nervousness filtered from him suddenly. They'd just gotten to his floor. "Yeah. Kind of." 

Weirdly enough, despite his deflections, Mara had the sense he wanted to talk about whatever it was. Winding Skywalker up could mean an hours-long derail though. She was on a schedule here. Not to mention extending things increased the chances of Solo and his commentary making an appearance.

Skywalker input the code and gestured to his kitchen through a doorway on the left. "I need to check up…" He seemed to summon some bravery, but then stopped. Fighting off the urge to roll her eyes, she waved him along.

"Go, I’ll find your booze." 

"Yeah," Skywalker said, clearly distracted. "Make yourself at home. I'll be right back."

Mara went through his pantry, finding it emptier than the last time she'd been there. Made sense if he just got in. The fridge was empty, save for some enormous glass pitcher filled to the brim with a brackish substance, some floating black things in it. Swimming in it? Mara made a face. What the kriff. But she'd stopped accounting for Skywalker's taste ages ago. No beer. 

She opened another cabinet and found only a couple of tiny bowls. The next one housed a dusty bottle of Arathine Gin. Finally. Mara rummaged around for a glass and served herself a bit, eyes on the opened pack of blue bantha milk wafers beside the sink. What the hell, she grabbed one, pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t stale. She’d take it as another good sign.

"... been asleep?" Mara heard Skywalker ask quietly as she walked out into the short corridor that opened to the living room. He got a low beep in response. His astromech. "Ok good. Yeah, you can hook up to the power port now, thanks." 

Sounded like Solo was depressed. Of course he was; his wife had put him out. That, or he was using his alone time to catch up on the sleep he'd lost caring for his infant twins. As unfortunate as it was that Skywalker was babysitting _him_ now, at least Solo absconding in Skywalker's guest room meant things might go her way after all. 

More at ease, Mara surveyed the living room was a mess of packing material. Some kind of furniture, from the looks of it. Mara didn’t let herself look too closely, entertaining the possibility of Solo moving in with Skywalker was too unsettling for some reason. Skywalker’d done some redecorating since the last time she'd been here. A large terrarium now took up about a third of the wall. Bizarre. Maybe some Jedi thing. Better not ask.

Mara lifted her glass of gin at Skywalker as he approached. "This was all I could find,” she kept her voice down. “You weren't kidding about having just gotten in."

"About that," he started, just as softly as he padded back into the kitchen. "We should...plan better when you’re in town.”

Mara finished her gin. She shouldn’t, but...“Like the time you commed me out of the blue at Hays Minor? Because you happened to be in the neighborhood. On the upside, the _Sky Hornet’s_ ‘fresher makes for a great meeting place.”

He blushed a pretty pink. “That was different...and it's not going -- not that," he sputtered for a while before flashing her a glare, as if he'd caught on, "I mean...from now on.”

“Yeah, okay.” She put her glass down and tilted her face up to press her lips to his. For a too-long second he didn’t react, his shoulders hard with tension, an odd trepidation about him, his lips soft but still -- and then his palm slid under her jaw, lips pressing back against hers. In the second after that, it was just as she remembered, his lips settling neatly against hers, full and smooth. She never remembered who reached for a taste first, only knew that his mouth was sweet, and just a little sharp, just like she liked. Her hands might run up his nape, tangle in his hair, but he was the one now sucking on her lower lip, his tongue sliding into her mouth. The light pressure of his hands at her waist annoyed her -- the kiss was too heavy and hot for half measures -- so when his hand slipped under her tunic, she couldn’t help an “Uh huh,” against his mouth, couldn’t help her hips pushing up into his.

He pulled away, but it was fine because he dragged his lips sloppily up her neck, biting on her earlobe. They weren’t making it to his bedroom, she hoped. 

_This_ was definitely why she was taking a twelve hour layover in Coruscant, she thought, her head lolling back, letting him get at more of her neck. She was panting already, beginning to fumble with Skywalker’s uncooperative belt. Something near the doorway caught her eye. Mara stopped cold.

An egg-shaped, metallic object floated gently towards the packet of cookies on the kitchen counter. From within, a small green head with long ears and huge, inky black eyes slowly peeked out, ears perking up curiously. A tiny clawed hand reached out and the creature started to coo. Mara closed her eyes.

Kark her life.

  
  


  
♥ ♥ ♥ 


End file.
